


Children

by Patolozka



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Sad, death of children, ineffable, made me cry, through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patolozka/pseuds/Patolozka
Summary: Even though God made angels and demons immortal, their human children are not.





	Children

**Author's Note:**

> I realized I wrote three stories about ineffable children so far, three completely different ones - ‘Oh Dear’ was fluff, ‘Delivery of the Antichrist’ was fun and this one called ‘Children’ is pure angst.  
This one was beta-read by nieded - thank you very much.

It happened in the moment right before sunrise in the time where light was still weak but night was losing its battle. Even the roosters were not awake yet.

A pale man in his mid-thirties lied in the crumpled sheets in bed. He was taking his last breaths. Another man sat in an old chair right beside him, a man whispering comforting words to him.

“I love you so very much, my son...” you could hear if you pricked up your ears carefully. “Everything will be alright.”

A man in the bed made a crackly sound and his eyes flattered for the last time. “I always knew... father, I love you too…” he breathed, his blue eyes made contact with the other equally blue ones, and then the light in them was gone when he left the mortal world for good.

The man sitting in the chair clasped his hand one more time and let his head fall down on his soon cooling chest. His breath was ragged in the silence. Last time he wept it was a long time ago. Last time he wept it was equally painful.  _ Who could know that this could happen to him? To be blessed with a child and then lose him so soon? What a cruel world was this?  _ He choked with his own guilt.

There was a movement behind him, and then a hand touched his shoulder. “It’s time to go, angel,” the other man said calmly, and the man nodded weakly and took another breath.

“I know… Just a little bit longer, please.”

“Of course…”

And the angel covered his son with his white wings and shed more tears.

ooOoo

The first time Aziraphale had a child on Earth he didn’t know it was even possible. It happened in Rome a few years after the death of Christ. Everything was so strange at the time. And everything felt so appealing all at once. God could be unpredictable from one week to another. What would happen next? So the angel loosened up a bit. With a woman. She was beautiful and nice and he could use a little vacation, so why not? And then Makar was born and Aziraphale couldn’t be happier.

He was a good boy with a golden hair and such a beautiful smile. He wanted to be a sailor one day. He wanted to travel the world. The day he died at seventeen in an accident in the market couldn’t have been worse for Aziraphale. That day he really thought he would fall…

When Christopher was born one cold winter in 1341 in France, Aziraphale thought he was prepared enough. Well, he had nearly thirteen centuries to prepare for it. But the fourteenth century was not a good one for humanity. It started with the Great Famine and continued with the Black Death and the Hundred Years’ War. Not good, not at all.

Christopher died in a street fight protecting his young wife, both of them too exhausted to survive. At the time, Aziraphale was done with God and the world itself that he nearly mused to sleep for a while like Crowley, but his duty outweighed his great sorrow and so he continued to work despite it all.

When the third time happened in the beginning of the seventeenth century, Aziraphale nearly couldn’t stand it. He stayed far away from the child as he could for some time. He only observed him and met him from time to time to be his guardian and mentor when needed. During that time he hoped with all his heart that this time… this time the child would live a longer life.

Thomas lived a good life in London. He was not a rich man, but he was not so poor either. He made quite a fair business as a blacksmith and even found a wife and had a kid of his own. He died in his thirty-sixth year as many men at his time. Aziraphale witnessed his last breath and his passing himself as his family was unfortunately away. It didn’t mean it was less painful for him.

Crowley, of course, was there every time for him despite it not being part of their Arrangement. His presence was like soothing hot sand to his bare soul. He didn’t judge. He didn’t demand anything. He was just there by his side as a friend. It almost made it bearable for Aziraphale.  _ Almost. _

ooOoo

Aziraphale didn’t know Crowley had his own child too. And when he finally knew it was too late.

It was a few years after the grand opening of his bookshop and it was to his liking when all customers left him alone, so when the street boy appeared on his threshold one evening in autumn 1812 it was quite unexpected.

“Mr. C.’s sendin’ this to you, sir,” the boy said and gave him a small note.

“Ah, I see,” he answered amicably and gave him a single miracled coin from his pocket. “Is he expecting my answer right away?”

“Nope,” the boy shrugged and then ran out of the shop back.

Aziraphale frowned and unpacked the folded paper, and then he took a deep breath and immediately left his place.

The note just said, ‘ _ Come. _ ’

ooOoo

“Why didn’t you tell me, my dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was gentle, trying to be calming.

Crowley defiantly shook his head, not bothering to look at him. “Couldn’t.”

“I see…” Aziraphale said and he meant it. He was watching a beautiful little girl sleeping on the couch. She was so small but her hair was like living fire, long and curly around her tiny head. She suffered from tuberculosis, and he could see there was nothing to be done.

“Could you…” Crowley started and then stopped himself in mid-sentence, his hand hovering just above his daughter’s arm.

“I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“I thought…” he breathed heavily and gently stroked the girl’s delicate skin. “I thought it wouldn’t happen to her, to my Rose, you know? How silly of me to believe one last time. I thought enough miracles would save her from her fate, but it doesn’t work that way, does it? It’s just… How could you… How could you…  _ all of those years _ ?”

The angel shut his eyes for a moment and then smiled sadly at his friend, his tears shining visibly in his eyes. “I couldn’t… No one could get used to this. It will always break your heart, my dear.”

Crowley turned away, his breaths rawin his throat. Everything felt like acid in his mouth.

“But I always knew one thing and it comforted me a bit…” Aziraphale continued.

“Yeah?” Crowley whispered, looking at his little baby’s face.

“All the kids are meant for Heaven, my dear. Of course they are. Just look at her.  _ Can’t you feel it _ ?”

And Crowley looked. Really looked. How could he not? His beautiful girl. His little angel. His…  _ He was so sorry. _

“Will you keep an eye on mine too?” Crowley sniffed weakly when Rose finally died.

“Of course, my dear. Nothing would please me more…”


End file.
